


the wayside

by PinkHydrangea



Series: by the seashore [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkHydrangea/pseuds/PinkHydrangea
Summary: outtakes and extra snippets fromby the seashore





	1. ephraim

**Author's Note:**

> first off!!! very important!!! if you're here without reading my fic _by the seashore_ , this fic collection is written under the assumption that the reader has read that before, so like. you're in the wrong place and i'd suggest going to read that before coming back
> 
> so while writing _by the seashore_ i wound up with a lot of outtakes, and people on the tatizeke discord server seemed interested in me publishing them, so here's where they will go!! a collection of things i wrote but didn't happen in the story, or things that i want to write that pertain to the story (such as this first chapter), and also.... probably... more Tatiana backstory bc i want to write more Tatiana backstory and i can't be stopped
> 
> anyway a lot of people got attached to Ephraim the Horse probably just on the value of his name alone, so i decided to write the story of how exactly Zeke got Ephraim. basically, this takes place very shortly after chapter 3

“You want me to… pick a horse?” Ezekiel asks.

The dining room is small; a servant tells him it’s because Rudolf normally eats alone, and when he does take meals with someone outside of political affairs and niceties, it’s usually only with his nephew and his fianceé. This means that Rudolf is only a few short feet away from Ezekiel at the small table, and it feels oddly like- like a family dinner, if he had to compare it to anything. A nice meal with a comfortable fire roaring in the hearth at the end of the room. The only people in the room besides Ezekiel and Rudolf are two guards by the door who may as well be statues.

Rudolf sets his fork down. “Yes. I’m appointing you to be a Gold Knight. You seem like the type who fights on horseback, am I right?”

“Well, I can ride, that’s for certain. I figured that out while I was staying in that village. It seems I’m definitely no slouch in the saddle.”

“As I assumed. How is your companion doing? What’s her name again?”

“Tatiana,” he replies immediately. “I believe she’s eager to get home. The glamour of a palace seems to make her a little uneasy.”

Rudolf sets his brows in a furrow. “Mmm. I imagine the people here aren’t overly kind to her, either, being a commoner. Pity.”

They continue the meal in relative silence; Rudolf isn’t much of a talker, and that’s fine with Ezekiel. He’d prefer comfortable silence over idle, pointless chatter any day. Rudolf occasionally asks how the food is, to which Ezekiel replies, “Just fine, thank you, sire,” and then they lapse back into silence.

“The horse will come from my finest,” Rudolf says suddenly after a few minutes, like he’s only just remembered what they were talking about before. “You can pick whichever one you would like, my friend.”

“That seems too kind, my lord,” he tries to reply, but Rudolf raises a hand and silences him.

“I have high hopes for you,” Rudolf tells him. “And I will offer you only the best in hopes that you will fulfill them.”

That’s definitely not a lot of pressure on Ezekiel’s shoulders at all.

* * *

 

“What’s the big difference between a horse from the village and a horse that the emperor gives you?” Tatiana asks later that night. She’s lying on her stomach on the bed, helping herself to a plate of food that he’s smuggled back for her. “Besides the fact that it’s a horse that the  _ emperor _ gave you?”

Ezekiel is sitting on the other side of the room in a chair, reading. He looks up from his book and says, “A horse from the village is, well, just a common horse. Even one that helps plow the fields isn’t as strong as one that the emperor might give me. The emperor would be giving me a warhorse.”

“And the big difference is…?”

“A warhorse is just bred for battle. They’re trained so that they don’t spook during combat, to wear armor, and to help protect their rider. Some are even trained to attack; a hoof to the head is a nasty wound, even if an opponent is wearing a helmet.”

Tatiana puts her fork down. “Warhorses sound scary.”

“Well, they aren’t meant for anything but fighting,” he tells her. “They aren’t supposed to be cuddly or friendly.” He goes back to his book, then sets it down and says, “You’re free to come with me to pick one, if you’d like.”

She shakes her head and frowns. “Oh, no thank you. I’d like to be kept away from something that’s born and bred to be that vicious.”

Ezekiel wonders for a moment, then, if he should tell her that it seems clear that he was born and bred for bloodshed the way a warhorse is.

He decides against it.

* * *

 

“Hm. Not this one either?” Rudolf asks as Ezekiel dismounts the fifth horse.

“It’s… a good horse,” he says, patting the beast’s flank. It doesn’t so much as look at him, and when it does, its eyes are rather cold. “But it doesn’t feel like the proper companion.”

Rudolf puts his hands behind his back and surveys the obstacle course around them, filled with hurdles and training dummies that have had their heads sliced clean off. “The horse was fast. Strong. Took you from place to place easily, and never spooked once. What more could you want in a warhorse?”

A few other nobles that have joined them are giving Ezekiel snide looks, and he knows exactly what they are thinking: The emperor is giving him, a nobody, a horse from his own collection, and he has the gall to be this picky? What pluck!

Ezekiel sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “You have my apologies. I just don’t- How many other horses are there that I can test?”

Rudolf looks over at the stable, humming. “About six more. I’m sure you’ll find the one you like, not to worry.”

Ezekiel frowns as a stablehand takes the horse away. He turns, showing his back to the men that are sneering at him, towards where the castle is. From here, he can see the balcony where Tatiana’s guestroom is; he’d had hopes that she would at least come out to watch him ride, but he doesn’t see so much as a glimpse of her. Then again, it’s cold with the winter coming on; perhaps she just didn’t want to sit outside and freeze.

He doesn’t see Tatiana, but he lowers his gaze and sees a horse that he didn’t notice before, wandering in a fenced pasture by the stables. Curious, and with Rudolf conversing with the stablehands, he walks over to get a better look at the beast. It’s not one of the horses that Rudolf has shown him, but it’s definitely a warhorse: About 18 hands high, close to his own height, and packed with muscle. It’s black as pitch with feathered legs and strong hooves. When he gets closer and it turns its head towards him to observe, its eyes are a striking green.

“Well now,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer. “Look at you…”

“Ezekiel, step away!” Rudolf calls in a tight voice.

The horse rears up on its hind legs a second later, just as Ezekiel obeys and takes a few steps back. It neighs loudly, an aggressive sound, pounds the air with its heavy hooves, and its quite the spectacle. Ezekiel finds himself more fascinated than scared with how strong it clearly is, the muscle stretching and rippling beneath its flank, its powerful hind legs. He’s most likely imagining it, but the ground almost seems to shake when it slams its front legs down on the ground. It huffs, shakes its manes, and neighs at him again, as if to ask what he’s still doing so close by.

“Ezekiel!” Rudolf calls again.

He tears his eyes from the horse and starts the short walk back towards Rudolf. “My apologies. I was just curious about that one; he isn’t one of the ones you’ve offered to me.”

Rudolf looks a little pale. “He’s an aggressive one. His name is Ephraim. He almost did in Berkut’s betrothed one time when she got too close, so forgive me for panicking.”

“He seems like a powerful horse,” Ezekiel comments.

“He’s the offspring of my own steed,” Rudolf admits, and then scratches his neck sheepishly. “A… mistake, if you will. I didn’t secure the stable securely enough one night, and, well, he got out and had a bit of fun with one of the draft mares in the pasture over.”

Ezekiel crosses his arms and regards the horse again. “That explains his size, then. What a massive beast.”

“He’d make an excellent warhorse,” Rudolf agrees, “but he hardly lets anyone get close to him, and those who do manage to get on his back are bucked off immediately. Odd thing is, he doesn’t mind being saddled; it’s like he wouldn’t mind being ridden if the right person stepped up to do it.”

Ephraim paces the field, glaring and huffing in their direction. Despite his fascination with the horse, Ezekiel decides to leave him be and moves onto the next mount that the stablehand brings out. He doesn’t have time to tame a unruly horse, after all.

The next horse, and the one after that, ride perfectly well. They don’t flinch when he swings his lance and decapitates a training dummy. They scale hurdles with a fair amount of ease. Each one seems faster than the last, and by all logic, Ezekiel should be fine with any of them. None of them, however, feel  _ right, _ and though Rudolf appears puzzled at the fact, allows him to keep trying and retrying every horse.

He’s finishing his last lap on the obstacle course with the seventh horse when he hears, “The stupid girl is going to get crushed!”

He snaps his head over to where the voice came from, looks a little further to where they’re looking, and his stomach sinks at the sight of someone in the fenced pasture with Ephraim. It sinks further when he realizes it isn’t just “someone,” and that it is, in fact, Tatiana; he would recognize that shade of hair anywhere.

The horse he is riding complains with a loud neigh when he yanks the reins and drives it off the course and towards the pasture. He almost tramples the noblemen standing near Rudolf, and they shout obscenities after him, but he couldn’t care less. He just has to get to that pasture and warn her that the beast is feral, dangerous, before it can crush her head beneath a hoof.

Tatiana takes a step towards the beast, seemingly oblivious to the danger even as the horse rears up on his hind legs like he did before. Ezekiel grits his teeth, throws his leg over the horse, and dismounts while it’s still galloping. He hits the ground hard, but comes up running, grabs the top of the fence, and swings himself over.

“Get away from it! It’s dangerous, Tatiana, it- it-?”

Ephraim has slammed his hooves back down on the ground, but instead of maiming Tatiana, he has lowered his head to her. Tatiana is staring at Ezekiel in utter bafflement, but turns her attention back to Ephraim after a moment. The horse seems content as she scratches behind his ears, even neighing a little as he swings his tail.

Ezekiel stares.

“What’s everyone shouting about?” Tatiana asks. “I decided to come over and see you, and I saw this guy looking all lonely, so I came to keep him company. He’s so friendly!”

Ezekiel stares more, then asks, “H-how long have you been in here with the beast?”

Tatiana crinkles her nose. “Five, eight minutes, maybe? Everyone just started shouting all of a sudden and it startled the poor boy. That’s why he was rearing up like that. He’s just a big ol’ sweetheart.”

“He tried to kill me an hour ago,” Zeke accuses.

Tatiana removes her hand from Ephraim’s nose and puts it on her hip. “No he didn’t!”

“He did,” he insists. “Gods, I thought he was going to smash your head in! But he- he’s really been letting you pet him for the past five minutes?”

“Ezekiel!” Rudolf calls over. “Is the girl fine?”

He turns, calls, “Just fine, sir, amazingly enough,” and looks back to Tatiana and Ephraim. The horse has his eyes closed while she strokes him, looking to be in pure bliss as she showers him with affection. She reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls out a handful of sugar cubes, and Ephraim regards them for a moment before snuffling them up right from her fingers.

“Don’t feed him,” Zeke snaps.

“I brought sugar cubes to feed all the horses,” she explains. “I felt bad for calling them violent and vicious, and I wanted to apologize. But, you know, he’s been eating all the sugar by himself! He’s got an appetite. I like him.”

Zeke groans and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Tatiana.”

“Hey, why don’t you just pick this horse?”

He looks up. “What?”

“He looks big and strong,” she says. “He’s a warhorse, right? And he’s handsome too, just like you. I think you two would make quite the pair.”

Ephraim glances at him, turning his nose away from Tatiana for just a moment, as though he has completely understood what she’s suggested. He huffs, shakes his mane, and bows his head again for Tatiana to scratch his ears.

“Let’s get a saddle on him and you can give it a go.” Tatiana scratches him a little more, cooing in a simpering voice, and the horse seems to be eating it up. He snuffles her coat pocket, seemingly in search for more sugar cubes.

“I don’t… Well…” Zeke regards the horse, then looks to the stablehand, peeking out curiously from the stables. “Could you saddle him?”

The stablehand, when he is finished, comments on how this is the calmest Ephraim has ever been, and that this is the only time he’s saddled him without nearly getting a hoof to his crotch. The fact that Tatiana is stroking him, kissing his head and rubbing behind his ears, probably has something to do with that. The horse is enamored with her, just as Ezekiel is, snuffling her face and burying his nose into her shoulder when she wraps her arms around his neck.

Now if only the damned horse was as docile while Ezekiel is attempting to mount him.

The first attempt, he barely gets his other foot in the stirrups, and then Ephraim rears back and completely dislodges him. Ezekiel is just glad the dirt is somewhat soft, because he hits the ground hard with a loud grunt. Ephraim trots away to stand by Tatiana and stares at him, and if he didn’t know any better, he would say the horse looked smug and amused.

“T-try again,” Tatiana encourages.

Ezekiel is certain that the nobles over with Rudolf are having a fine little chuckle as he stands and brushes his trousers off. The thought gives him the determination to try and mount Ephraim again. Tatiana holds the horse by the nose this time, stroking him and smiling while Ezekiel puts his foot in the stirrup, grabs hold of the saddle, and climbs on again. He manages to grab the reins this time and actually situate himself, and things seem to be going well. Tatiana lets go and steps back, watching as they pace the pasture a little, and it’s going fine.

And then, Ephraim seems to have had enough, because he bursts into a gallop suddenly enough that it startles Ezekiel, bucks a little, and then rears back and throws him off again.

“Oh!” he hears Tatiana gasp as he hits the ground. “A-are you alright? Ezekiel!”

He’s flat on his back, pride more than a little wounded, and his back is probably bruised as well. He grunts and grimaces, sitting up with some difficulty. The stupid horse puffs and trots around him, like he is rubbing in a victory.

“Every time you throw me,” he tells the horse when it gets close, “it only makes me more determined.”

Ephraim swishes his tail, hitting him right in the face.

“Again,” Tatiana encourages. “Come on.”

He gets to his feet again, staring down the horse. “I am going to tame you if it’s the last thing I do.”

Another three tries, each time ending with him being thrown from the horse’s back. Each fall is more painful than the last; he’s certain his back and rear are going to be nothing but a mess of bruises the next day, and he’ll be lucky if he’ll be able to walk. Tatiana comes over each time, though, helping him up, and encouraging him to get back on the horse. It’s humiliating to be thrown so many times, especially when Rudolf and Tatiana are watching, but he just has to swallow his pride and keep going. That’s all there is to it.

The sixth time he gets on the horse, Tatiana stands right in front of Ephraim, hands on her hips, and glares into his eyes. She taps his nose and then says, “Listen, okay? If you let Ezekiel ride you, that means you don’t have to stay in this stuffy pasture anymore. And, it means you get to come home with us, and I have a lot of sugar cubes back at the church that need eating.”

Ephraim only blinks and turns his head away. Tatiana looks up at Ezekiel, shrugs, says, “I tried to convince him,” and then goes back to wait by the fence.

Miraculously enough, Ephraim doesn’t throw him off this time. They trot around the pasture easily, and the horse is on his best behavior. He speeds up when Ezekiel lightly digs his heels into his side, stops when he pulls on the reins, and goes where he is encouraged to go. It’s a complete 180 from his previous attitude, and Ezekiel is convinced that Tatiana is completely magical to have tamed the horse with just a few pretty words.

“Wow, look at that!” she calls over. “He’s being so nice!”

“You like her, too?” Ezekiel mutters to the horse. “I saw her first, you hear me?”

Ephraim turns his eyes up to him and makes an annoyed sound, lifts his legs like he is considering tossing him off again, but then thinks better of it and keeps on behaving.

Another few minutes of trotting, and then Ephraim easily scales the fence. Ezekiel guides him towards the obstacle course, passing Rudolf and the noblemen on the way. He stops to apologize for rushing off, but Rudolf only waves a hand in dismissal with a vaguely awed look on his face.

“You’ve actually gotten him to behave,” he says. “Impressive! And, how exactly do you feel about him? Does he feel like a ‘proper companion?’”

The noblemen are staring at him in shock. Ezekiel straightens up and says, “He feels like an excellent partner, my lord. I think I’d like to take him, if you’re willing to part.”

Rudolf raises a brow. “By all means. He has no purpose here. I’m sure he’ll like the open plains, back where you’re going.”

The damned horse still prefers Tatiana to him, but it would be a lie to say they don’t become good friends.


	2. the argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one....... sort of sloppy again, sorry, a lot of these chaps are just gonna be me polishing up concept writing i did and throwing it out so they won't be the exact same quality as stuff in _seashore_ was. also this one is... slightly unpleasant?? i initially had planned to have a chapter in which Tatiana and Zeke have like their first Big Fight because it's a couple milestone of sorts, but it never fit because of how.... intense it got. a warning that this chapter isn't all kittens and rainbows and the fight does get intense and does make callbacks to Tatiana's father and her abusive childhood, so it's. definitely not a happy chapter and isn't meant to make you feel Good or happy inside because i wrote it when i was in an awful mood a few months ago, SOWWY
> 
> but we all love those intense arguments and peaceful and proper resolutions with healthy communication right?? (IM SORRY I'VE NEVER LIKE WRITTEN AN ARGUMENT BC IM USED TO FLUFF SO THAT'S ANOTHER REASON THIS IS SLOPPY AND I KINDA REWORKED IT SO IT WOULD WORK AS A STANDALONE THING INSTEAD OF BEING WORKED INTO A CHAPTER SO THAT'S ANOTHER REASON IT'S SLOPPY, im sorry)

Zeke and Tatiana don’t fight.

Well, they fight sometimes. Just now and then, over stupid little things like he left his mug in the sink, or the fact that she accidentally burned dinner, things like that. They squabble a little, sigh over it, and then apologize for losing their temper and get over it. It’s the adult way to handle things, the most reasonable and rational way. There’s no point in blowing up constantly over something.

Tatiana has friends who shout all the time, and honestly, she feels bad for their spouses. It’s usually over something ridiculous like getting the wrong thing at the market, and nothing comes from it. It only leaves both people bitter and mad. Nothing productive. She doesn’t see why her friends can’t just say, “You accidentally got the wrong thing, that’s okay, could you please be a little more careful next time? Was I unclear? Was this my fault?”

She doesn’t get why couples shout. If you love the other person, can’t you just sit down with them? Like she and Zeke do. If they get too heated, they sit at the kitchen table, and even if it takes a few minutes and a little bit of pouting and hurt feelings, they work it out in calm, even voices. No shouting, no finger-pointing, no nonsense like that.

Tatiana doesn’t get it.

And then they fight. They _really_ fight. They shout so loud that Tatiana is happy they don’t have any neighbors close by, because she’s sure they’d be heard loud and clear. They fight because of the war. Because “You’re gone all the time!” Because “I can’t be at your beck and call every second of the day. Don’t be spoiled!” Because _“‘Spoiled?'_ Wanting you at home a few nights a week isn’t spoiled, you jerk!”

Zeke grimaces and buries a face in his hand, the other set firmly on his hip. It’s moments like this, where he is quiet while she rambles, that Tatiana recalls that she’s much younger than him; a little less steady and a lot more passionate, but she doesn’t care. She shouts anyway, rounding on him, her fists balled up and angry tears in her eyes.

“Every second I work is food on our table,” he snaps. “You don’t make a sizable living as a cleric, Tatiana. Even with me working for days on end, we’re barely scraping by! I’m working so that-”

“Don’t patronize me,” she spits. She feels like a bristling cat, teeth bared and fur stuck out. “Acting like you’re the big, tough manly man that I need to lean on. I could- I could get by just fine without your money! I always have!”

He snaps and turns on her more fiercely than ever. His voice is cold and quiet, more terrifying than any shout. “Don’t you twist my words, Tatiana.”

A shudder goes up her spine at the lack of warmth in his dark eyes. She frowns and looks away. “I’m not twisting. You’re saying that I need you to take care of me, but that’s not true.”

Zeke scowls, shaking his head, and slams a hand on the counter. The sound echoes through the house, and Tatiana jumps as he raises his voice again. “The point of this argument is that I have to be gone. I can’t be here every second of the day to coddle you and tell you things will be okay! The Zofians could be marching over our border any second, and I just-”

He bites his tongue suddenly, hands clenched and shaking, and he turns away from her. Tatiana’s stomach is burning with anger like she hasn’t felt in a long, long time. It feels bad. Mucky, slimy, thick, awful. It’s not a good feeling, but she embraces it and raises her voice as well.

“What? You’re scared that the Deliverance is going to come marching over here and kill us? Are you scared, Ezekiel?”

“Stop,” he mutters.

This is ugly. Her words are ugly. Her temper is ugly. This is bad, it’s all wrong, it shouldn’t be happening. Tatiana knows that, but she’s ranting now, because now _she’s_ scared, and she doesn’t know how else to react to the fear if he’s not going to wrap her up in his arms and assure her things will be okay. She doesn’t know how to deal with it, because she’s just a whining, scared little girl on a border village, and she’s just _terrified._

“If we’re going to die, I’d rather you be at home,” she snaps. “Not off cooped up in some office for days!”

“We’re not going to die,” he says quietly.

Tatiana gets back to the point of her argument, taking a step closer to him. “I just want you to come home sometimes!”

“Shut up!” he shouts.

Tatiana freezes in place and immediately goes through her mind, trying to think of another time when he’s said something so harsh to her.

He never has.

Zeke rounds on her, turning, and his teeth are bared in a scowl. “You’re a child! I refuse to stand this whining and indulge your spoiled behaviors! I’m not going to let you die, so stop saying so.”

Tatiana steps back as he advances on her, and her mind is involuntarily racing back, back, back to over a decade ago, when she really was a child, when another man looked at her with flashing eyes and a scowl. She swallows and tries to calm her heart that is starting to beat faster with each step he takes. She puts her hand on the counter, dragging it as she cowers.

“Hey,” she whispers, and she wants to say, “You’re scaring me,” but nothing substantial will come out of her throat.

“Just understand that I’m doing my job, and you need to stop being a brat!” he continues, and he slams a hand against the counter again.

Tatiana jumps even higher at the sound this time. Her memory snaps to a time when that man slammed her against a wall; it had made that same sound. Loud, harsh, painful. Tears start to fill her eyes as she thinks of more things: Being thrown down stairs, getting pushed and pulled, slaps to her cheeks, hard blows to her head, pain upon pain upon pain-

She doesn’t see Zeke anymore. She doesn’t see her house. She sees that place from so long ago, a place where she never had anywhere to turn, no corner to hide, nowhere nowhere nowhere. She could run, but never outside, because he always locked the doors and kept the key. She could run until her legs gave out, but he would always catch her, and he would-

Zeke lashes out. Tatiana squeaks as he grabs her arm in a firm grip, clenching her wrist hard. His expression is so uncharacteristic, tinged with fear beneath the anger, and he squeezes tighter as he ducks his head. Tatiana can hear her heart in her ears, and she doesn’t try to struggle against him. She never wins when she struggles. She only gets hurt more, she only gets kicked and hit more, all she can do is cry and hope he takes some pity on her, that’s all she can do.

“Stop being unreasonable and _listen_ when I’m-”

He stops in the middle of his sentence when a faint sobbing becomes audible, and terror instantly fills the room as she chokes out between squeaks and sobs, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll be g-good now. Don’t hit me, please.”

If she looked up, she would see his entire body loosen as the anger rushed out of him. She would see his eyes wander to her arm, staring at her bruising wrist in his grip in sheer horror. But, she cannot look. Her eyes are trained on the floor, and she’s somewhere far away in the distant past. She tries to muffle her sobs, because crying only makes him mad, and he hits harder when he’s mad, and-

“No,” Zeke breathes, and he lets her go instantly. “Oh, no. Tatiana, I’m so- I’m so-! Oh, darling, no.”

Tatiana pulls her arm close to her, holding her wrist while she cries. Slowly, she’s coming out of her haze, blinking away the sight of that man atop her, slamming his fists into her face. Her heart is still racing so fast she thinks it might explode, but she’s not stuck in her childhood anymore. She swallows and looks up, regarding Zeke—that’s right, it’s her Ezekiel, her lovable sweetheart that she just pushed a little too far—and his face is numb, but horrified. He looks at her, and then at his hand, and he pales considerably.

“I’m so sorry,” bursts out of him. “I’m so sorry! Tatiana, I didn’t mean to put an unkind hand on you. Please, I’m so-”

And Tatiana becomes livid.

He reaches for her, and she swipes her hand away, squeezes her tear-filled eyes shut, and screams, “No! No! Don’t touch me!”

Zeke recoils from her, panic washing off of him. “Tatiana, oh no, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t touch me!” she shouts again, and when she repeats it next, it’s barely comprehensible, babbled through a mess of tears, and she hunches in on herself.

This isn’t fair to either of them. She knows that. But she’s livid, positively livid, that the person she has offered her heart to would be so violent with her, especially when he _knows._

His face contorts into anger again, though whether it’s directed at her or at himself, Tatiana doesn’t know. She only knows that, while she’s busy sobbing like a child and feeling sorry for herself, he’s stormed past, grabbed his coat, and gone. He slams the door behind him, and she flinches at that as well, crying even harder.

She doesn’t know how this all went from her saying, “I wish you were home more” while they did the dishes to a convenient reminder that Tatiana is broken and will never, ever, really be okay.

* * *

 

After half-an-hour of crying, hunched over on the floor, Tatiana picks herself up, grabs a shawl, and heads outside. Zeke’s footsteps are in the snow, clear as day, and she can tell from the shift in them that his stride had become more panicked the longer he walked. She follows the steps, sniffling and rubbing at her red eyes. The trail leads to the stables, and there are horseshoe prints in the snow.

He’s gone. Tatiana pulls the corner of her shawl up and wipes her nose with it, angry at herself. He comes home maybe two nights a week, and she’s ruined the little time she gets to spend with him. Now she’s not going to see him again for days, possibly weeks, if he’s really angry and decides to not come home, and this is all her fault.

She stands, staring almost blankly at Ephraim’s heavy tracks, and then looks up when she hears feet crunching in the snow.

“Auntie?” One of the children comes up to her, firewood in her skinny arms, and blinks up at her with a tilt to her head. “Is everything okay?”

Tatiana swallows and nods, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

The child looks doubtful and shifts the firewood over to beneath a single arm. She offers up her mittened hand, concern evident on her face. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Tatiana laughs between her remaining tears and nods silently, taking the girl’s hand and letting her walk her back towards the house.

“I saw General Ezekiel rushing to the stables, Auntie.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. He looked real upset. If it was anyone else, I’d say he was cryin’. Did something bad happen?”

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

* * *

 

A week goes by, and Zeke doesn’t go home. Tatiana has calmed down now, and while he shouldn’t have grabbed her or done any of that, maybe she wasn’t exactly fair to him. She had provoked him, after all, preying on something that she knew he was afraid of and poking at it. So, while he shouldn’t have grabbed her, she shouldn’t have insisted they were all going to die at the hands of the Zofians. They’re equally at fault, equally to blame, and Tatiana is sure that they’ll come out of this mess better than ever.

If he would just come home, that is.

Tatiana waits patiently every day, an apology on her lips, and a discussion about ways they can prevent having this kind of severe blowup again. Thinking about talking about her little meltdown gives her anxiety, but she can swallow that down for the sake of her relationship. She’ll just remind him that she can’t handle being handled roughly, no matter how mad he gets, and she’ll promise to not provoke him ever again.

Honestly, she really doesn’t know how they got into this mess.

“Think he’s comin’ home tonight?” an older sister asks her.

Tatiana is perched by the window, her chin resting on her arms, and looks up at the light flurry of snow. “Who’s to say. He’s not home a lot anymore.”

“Didn’t you two fight about that last week?” the sister asks.

Tatiana sighs, gives a glare, and her colleague walks away with a shrug. She goes back to watching the snow and pushing unpleasant memories of _that man_ out of her mind. Just trying to push them away doesn’t work, and she has to go scrub herself clean in the bath for a couple of hours to calm down properly. The water is cold, but it makes her feel better.

Zeke isn’t home by sunset, so Tatiana resigns herself to having to wait another day. She gives the house a quick cleaning, has a piece of flatbread to try and calm her growling stomach, and then gets ready for bed. It’s quiet, painfully so, and it’s hard to get into a cold, empty bed. But, she resolves to not complain about that anymore. If she’d just kept her mouth shut about it in the first place, this would have never happened.

She goes to sleep easily. She’s so tired.

* * *

 

The door opening sometime in the very early morning wakes Tatiana up. She stirs, blinking sleep out of her eyes, and sits up in the bed. A glance at the grandfather clock tells her it’s two in the morning, and she frowns. She doesn’t hear anymore footsteps, but she knows it’s Zeke that’s home. She takes her shawl from the nightstand and wraps it around herself as she heads out of the room.

Sometimes, Tatiana is reminded of what a large man her lover is. Now is one of those times, as he practically looms in the entrance of the house, dressed in his black uniform. He’s hunched, his head hung, but he still takes up so much space. The room fills with his dread and misery, making his presence wider. He looks like an emissary of Death, and Tatiana takes a nervous step towards him.

Zeke moves suddenly as soon as she does, and she jumps back. He puts a hand to his side wordlessly, is still, and then holds out his palm to her. She can’t see that well in the dark, but she can tell there’s a dark liquid on his hand. It’s blood, no doubt, and he starts to wobble as she approaches him more desperately.

“Ezekiel!” Tatiana leans up against him just before he topples over, and it seems to help him balance. He puts a hand on her shoulder, yet doesn’t look up to meet her gaze as she says, “What happened?”

“Jumped. My guard wasn’t up.” He tilts his head towards her a little, letting her see the faintest hint of a smile. “You should see the other guys.”

Tatiana’s sure they’re rotting out on the grasslands, food for the wolves now.

“Lie down,” she whispers. “Here, on the floor. I’ll make you comfy.”

Zeke grimaces as he kneels and allows her to ease him back. The carpets are getting bloody, and she’ll have to either scrub them relentlessly or throw them out, but that’s the farthest thing from her thoughts right now. She takes all of the pillows off of the couch and sets them beneath his head and shoulders, and when she’s sure he’s comfortable, starts to unbutton his uniform. It’s always annoying to go through the layers: The coat, and then the waistcoat, and then the shirt beneath that. Honestly, she doesn’t know how he doesn’t overheat in the summer.

It’s dark, and she can’t see his face so well, but Tatiana hears him grunt. He shifts beneath her hands in a way that suggests severe pain.

“Shhhhhh.” Tatiana finishes undoing his uniform, finally. She peels the layers away, careful to not jostle him, and then takes a careful look at his wounds.  She needs a little light, and a wave of her hand provides it. It glows faintly blue, letting her see his wound quite nicely. It’s just a stab wound, only the one, but it’s deep. She has never known her Zeke to allow petty thieves to land hits on him; this must have been a lucky strike.

“Is this the only one?” she asks quietly.

Zeke nods without opening his eyes.

“Okay. Relax.”

She waves a hand through the air. A moment later, her staff falls out of the space, dropping softly into her hand. Tatiana shuts her eyes and holds it over him, and with a little incantation tumbling from her lips, the healing starts. The wound twitches for a moment, and then starts to mend. Flesh pushes back together, skin knits itself whole again. Zeke groans and flinches, as he usually does. His body has never liked healing magic all that much, usually preferring the traditional gauze and elixirs, but he toughs it out.

“Peace,” she whispers. “We’re nearly done already.”

He’s quiet for a minute, shaking slightly underneath the spell, and then gasps out, “I’m sorry.”

Tatiana looks down from her staff at him. “Don’t apologize. I know your body isn’t fond of magic. It’s o-”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you.” Zeke lifts his hand and puts it over his wound. “I didn’t mean to. Please, I promise. I _promise.”_

The spell falters for a second while she regards him, and then she snaps back to attention. “No, no. It was my fault.”

“No!” He winces, probably as proteins in his muscles rebuild themselves. “It was mine. I said cruel things to you. You just- you just wanted to tell me you were lonely, and I overreacted, and it all spiraled out of control. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so stressed, my head isn’t on straight.”

Tatiana feels tears pressing behind her eyes. “We both did something bad. You shouldn’t have grabbed me or yelled like that, and I shouldn’t have pushed you on a topic you’re clearly sensitive on. Neither of us behaved like adults.”

Some more quiet while the spell finishes, and then she asks, “Are you really scared of the Zofians hurting us?”

Zeke starts to relax as the magic stops flooding him. The wound is shut when Tatiana pokes at it. He doesn’t say anything for a while, quiet as quiet can be, still not speaking when she comes back from grabbing a basin and a rag. She starts to mop up the blood around the wound, dabbing at the sensitive area softly.

“I worry for you,” he whispers into the dark. “I wonder, when I’m alone at the base. I wonder, ‘What if the Zofians have invaded right now? What if- what if they’re on their way to the village?’ I think about that, about not being here to protect you, and it fills me with dread like you can’t imagine.”

She dabs at his wounds to pick up his dried blood. “Ezekiel, don’t be silly. We’re safe.”

“But what if not for long?” he mumbles.

Tatiana doesn’t have a reply to that.

“When you told me, ‘I wish you were home more,’ I just snapped, I suppose. Because I do want to be home more. And it felt like you were… accusing me, perhaps. Of not wanting to be. Of being cold and flippant. Does that make any sense?”

Her heart swells, and she rests a hand against his cheek. “Yes. And I promise, I wasn’t accusing. I just wanted to tell you I was a little lonely, and maybe it came out like I was whining. I’m sorry.”

Zeke groans and lifts a hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Oh, gods, then I called you a spoiled child, and a brat, and I-”

She laughs, and there isn’t a lot of humor within it, but it’s a laugh. “Maybe I was feeling a bit like a petulant little girl when I complained. The bed gets cold without you. It irritates me.”

He cracks a smile. “Is it? My bed at the base is dreadfully cold without you. It would be nice, if there was a compromise, but lovers and spouses aren’t allowed to stay long term. Distractions, you see.”

Tatiana strokes his cheek with her thumb. “We’ll be fine. This isn’t forever, my sweetest.”

Zeke turns his face to her hand, kissing her palm. “That’s right. That’s right, isn’t it?”

She spends some time stroking his face, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, and then says, “I am grateful to you for working so hard. I’m sorry I got mad about that whole thing. I know that when you work longer times, it means you get paid more. I was just being silly.”

“You’re getting thin.” His voice is hushed. “If I could bring home more money. More food. When we slept together last, I felt your ribs.”

She rests a hand on her stomach, and it does feel hollow. Tracing up a little, she definitely can feel the outline of her bones. It unnerves her, but she cracks a smile. “What? You don’t think my bones are sexy? It wasn’t a turn-on for you?”

“Don’t joke,” he scolds. “This is important.”

Tatiana stops caressing him and goes back to cleaning off the dried blood. When she finishes, she pushes the basin to the side and grabs a quilt off of the couch. She lies down next to him, resting her head on the corner of a pillow, and drapes the blanket over them. Zeke grabs it and pulls the edge up over her shoulders, carefully, and rubs her side as she snuggles up close.

“I’ll never grab you like that again,” Zeke whispers. “I’m so sorry. I completely lost my head for a second. I didn’t mean to make you so afraid, I swear.”

“I shouldn’t have provoked you. We both did something really bad.” She slips her fingers across his chest and traces his collarbones. “Could we promise to not fight like that again?”

He takes a heaving sigh. “I don’t think so.”

The answer the expected, but she echoes his sigh regardless. “I suppose I knew that.”

“If we’re together forever, like we want, that’s a long time to not ever fight like that.” Zeke wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. “People fight. That’s just their nature. We’ll disagree over things, and things won’t always be good. We’ll get mad at each other. We’ll overreact, like we did last week.”

She turns her face into his shoulder. Not really what she wants to hear, but it’s what she knows. It’s just an ugly truth. “Could we promise to try, though?”

Zeke remains quiet, then speaks again after mulling it over. “I think that’s a good idea. And even if we can’t promise to not fight, I can promise to never do what I did to you again.”

“Thank you.”

He still looks troubled, however, based on what she can see in the dim light. “However, the fight and what I did are completely separate matters. I promise to never, ever, do anything that reminds you of your father. I’m disgusted with myself.”

Tatiana smiles and rests her head against him. “I’m disgusted with myself for shouting like that. Provoking you so awfully, I don’t know what came over me.”

“We’re all scared,” he reasons. “Nobody is in their right mind when they’re scared.”

They end the conversation on that, but Tatiana whispers, “I’m really sorry,” once more.

“So am I,” he replies. “Close your eyes. Try not to lean too much on my side while you sleep. It still stings.”

“Okay.”

Zeke shifts his arm, grabs her cheek, and tilts her head up towards him. He leans in and presses their lips together briefly, and then adjusts the quilt over them again. “I promise I love you.”

She smiles and closes her eyes. “I promise I love you, too.”

The situation ends on a peaceful note, but it only serves to frighten Tatiana more.

She wonders what else this awful war will bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coughs i was anxious about publishing this one just because of it's very intense nature,,


End file.
